The Colony of Beavan is a massive, cultured nation, notable for its lack of airports, compulsory military service, and pith helmet sales. The hard-nosed, cynical, humorless, devout population of 1.788 billion Beavanians are ruled without fear or favor by a psychotic dictator, who outlaws just about everything and refers to the populace as "my little playthings."

The enormous, corrupt, moralistic, well-organized government juggles the competing demands of Administration, Law & Order, and Defense. The average income tax rate is 82.0%, and even higher for the wealthy.

The frighteningly efficient Beavanian economy, worth 217 trillion pounds a year, is driven entirely by a combination of government and state-owned industry, with private enterprise illegal. However, for those in the know, there is an enormous, deeply entrenched black market in Arms Manufacturing, Uranium Mining, Woodchip Exports, and Door-to-door Insurance Sales. The private sector mostly consists of enterprising ten-year-olds selling lemonade on the sidewalk, but the government is looking at stamping this out. Average income is an impressive 121,225 pounds, and distributed extremely evenly, with little difference between the richest and poorest citizens.

Politicians have lost their marbles, group hugs break out during floor votes, museums stand half-empty as all foreign exhibits are returned to their countries of origin, and reinventing the wheel is a favourite pastime of Beavanian weapons designers. Crime, especially youth-related, is totally unknown, thanks to the all-pervasive police force and progressive social policies in education and welfare. Beavan's national animal is the turtle, which teeters on the brink of extinction due to heavy metals seepage into national waterways.

Beavan is ranked 306,977^th in the world and 422^nd in Federation Of Sovereign States for Most Rebellious Youth, scoring -21 on the Stark-Dean Displacement Index.